One And Done

by Cynthia Sax

  My gaze lifts to the girl’s mussed lipstick.

  She put her lips on Edward’s groin.

  The bitch sucked his cock.

  Shock, pain, grief swells within me. A howl crawls up my throat.

  I suppress it, knowing if I let it loose, if I release these feelings, I won’t stop. I’ll wail for hours, frightening others and humiliating myself even farther.

  Think, Jenella. I force myself to approach this situation with my mind, not with my shattered heart. Edward wants Chelsea. He thinks she’s the ideal girlfriend.

  Why?

  If I understand that, maybe I can understand this situation, save our relationship.

  “How can Chelsea take you to the next level?” I sound almost calm, only a hint of angst edging my words. “What does she have that I don’t?”

  “It doesn’t matter what she has.”

  It does matter. I need to know why he’s acting like this, why he felt the need to replace me. “Tell me.”

  “Jenella.”

  “Tell me,” I yell.

  “She’s younger. Is that what you want to hear?” Edward names the one characteristic I can’t compete on. No matter what I do, Chelsea will always be younger than I am.

  “And?” There has to be more.

  He presses his lips together.

  “And?”

  “You really want to hear this?”

  “Yes.” I need to know everything.

  “Then I’ll tell you, because I know how stubborn you are.” Edward sweeps his hands over his thinning hair. “You won’t let up until you hear all of it.”

  “I won’t,” I agree. He does know me. I am stubborn. “Tell me.”

  He blows out his breath. “She’s adventurous and fun. What did you do last night?”

  “I was working.” But we both know if I hadn’t been working, I would have been curled up on the couch, watching shows about serial killers and becoming even more paranoid about violent crime than I already am.

  “I was babysitting twenty-somethings,” Mr. Sheridan contributes. “And one ungrateful lawyer who doesn’t know how damn lucky he is.”

  “Eddy and I spent the night here, dancing until two in the morning.” Chelsea flips the ends of her brown hair over her shoulder.

  They were here, dancing. Edward told me he was working.

  How many other lies has he told me? “What else does she have that I don’t?”

  “She dresses better.” Edward’s words whip over me. “Did you know that Chelsea doesn’t own one pair of flannel pajamas?” He says this as though it is a miraculous fact.

  “Toronto winters are cold.” I defend myself.

  “Flannel is so fuckin’ soft.” Mr. Sheridan offers yet another private aside.

  “And look at her shoes.” Edward gives Chelsea’s feet a game show wave. “You wouldn’t see my mother wearing those.”

  I grit my teeth. His mother and I wore the same shoes once. Once.

  “Tell her what you told me last night.” Chelsea pipes up.

  Edward’s forehead furrows.

  “That I’m the best you’ve ever had.”

  She’s talking about sex. My gaze drifts downward to the smudge of red on Edward’s pants.

  Was she truly the best he ever had or had that merely been talk, something he thought she wanted to hear?

  I don’t have the courage to ask and I don’t really want to know. “Chelsea dresses better and is more adventurous.” I sum up his issues. “Okay.”

  “That’s exactly it, Jenella.” Edward’s blue eyes flash. “I don’t want to settle for okay. I want more. I deserve more. When I met Chelsea, I realized that.”

  “You viewed our relationship as settling?” I gape at him. “I love you.”

  “Here.” Mr. Sheridan presses a glass into my hand. “You need this.”

  My first instinct is to pass it back to him.

  Then I realize he’s right.

  I do need a drink.

  I gulp the alcohol. It burns my throat and I sputter. A delicious warmth spreads over my chest. My ability to deal with the situation returns.

  “Thank you.” I hand the empty glass to Mr. Sheridan.

  He stares at me. “That wasn’t for you to drink.”

  What else would I do with it?

  I shake my head, turn back to Edward. “I can give you what you deserve. I can change.” I hear the desperation in my voice and I don’t care. I love him. I’m willing to do anything to keep him. “I’ll lose weight.” I run my hands over my top. “Dress better, sexier. Wear more makeup. Dye my hair. Learn what you want me to learn.”

  “I would never ask you to change, Jenella.” Edward’s voice softens. “You’re content. You like yourself the way you are and I wouldn’t take that away from you.”

  I’m content…like a cow. “I’ll do whatever you want, become the woman you need, anything.”

  “I have the woman I need.” He grasps Chelsea’s left hand, links his fingers with hers, the way he used to link his fingers with mine. “I want you to let me go.”

  “That’s not the woman I am, Edward. You know that. I don’t let people go.” I hold onto people, onto relationships, having realized as child how important they are. “We can fix this. Give us a second chance.”

  “We’re past second chances. ” He turns and walks with Chelsea toward the door. “Be happy, Jenella.”

  He leaves without a backward glance, taking my heart with him.

  I gaze at the doors, expecting Edward to come back through them, to return to me, to tell me this was all a mistake, a joke that went terribly wrong.

  He doesn’t.

  “What just happened?” I’m confused.

  “You got dumped.” Mr. Sheridan aka Mr. Sensitive pours another drink. “You should be proud of yourself. You handled it well.” He studies the amber liquid, holding it up to the light. “Differently, but well.” He tosses the alcohol back.

  “What do you mean—differently?” I’m in shock, unable to believe my Steady Eddy has left me for another woman.

  “Over the years, I’ve seen quite a few breakups.” The club owner fills the glass again. “Too many.” His expression turns bleak for a heartbeat. “Usually there’s yelling. The boy says something stupid.”

  Like saying he was settling when he chose her? “Edward did that.”

  “He did.” Mr. Sheridan dips his head. “Then the girl either slaps him or throws a drink in his face.” He presses the glass against my palm.

  As he did during Edward’s dramatic breakup scene.

  “You expected me to throw the drink at him.”

  Mr. Sheridan nods.

  “Oh, God. I am boring.” I gulp the alcohol and wheeze, the burn taking me by surprise yet again.

  “You’re not boring.” Mr. Sheridan comes to my defense. “You’re refreshingly mature.”

  “That’s worse.” I set the glass on the counter. “Mature is code for old.” I pace around the small room, my heels clicking on the floor, my perception of myself shattered, my confidence shredded. “I’m old, boring, stagnating like—”

  “You’re not stagnating, gorgeous.” Mr. Sheridan hooks his arms around me and pulls my body to his.

  I collide with hard muscle and gasp, surprised by the contact.

  “You’re blossoming, ripe, ready, so fuckin’ ready.” The man, this handsome near-stranger, covers my open mouth with his, the force of his embrace driving my head back.

  I clutch his shoulders, savoring the strength under his suit jacket and allow him to ravish me, too stunned to think. He plunges his tongue in and out of me, fucking my mouth, and that’s what it is—fucking. His kiss is rough and primal. His scent fills my nostrils. He tastes of the liquor he’s been drinking. I’m scorched by his touch.

  By another man’s touch. Edward’s hands aren’t gripping my hips. The ridge pressing against my stomach doesn’t belong to the man I love. Edward’s tongue isn’t in my mouth, stroking mine.

  I flatten my palm
s against Mr. Sheridan’s shoulders and push, breaking our kiss. “What are you doing?” My lips hum, swollen with passion.

  “I’m seducing you.” His voice is husky. His eyes are as black as night. “The best way to get over a man is to get under a new one.”

  “Get under a new one?” I blink. “You didn’t say that? Tell me I misheard you.”

  “You didn’t mishear me.” His expression is adorably sincere as though he expects this cheesy line to work. “If you’re feeling down, baby, I could feel you up.”

  The silliness of Mr. Sheridan’s reply meshes with the shock of Edward’s betrayal. I twitter, the sound edged with hysteria.

  Mr. Sheridan lifts both of his eyebrows.

  One, two, three more giggles escape my lips. “That’s bad, so very bad.”

  His lips twitch. “Bad is what I do best, gorgeous.”

  His corniness sets me off. I hold onto his arms and laugh so hard; tears roll down my cheeks and my stomach hurts. It feels good to let this out, the merriment releasing some of the darker emotions building inside me.

  Mr. Sheridan’s chest shakes against my breasts, the tremors building in intensity until his chuckles join mine.

  This gets me going again. I cling to him and laugh and laugh and laugh.

  Several moments pass.

  I finally sober. “Thank you, Mr. Sheridan.” I wipe the moisture from my cheeks. “I needed that.”

  Mr. Sheridan slides a hand inside his suit jacket and removes a tissue. “Allow me.” He dabs it over my skin, his tender care of me soothing my battered heart. “And call me Smoke, not Mr. Sheridan.” His eyes sparkle with caramel specks.

  “Smoke?” I tilt my face upward. “You’re named after the club?”

  He folds the damp tissue and puts it back in his pocket. “The club is named after me.”

  That can’t be his real name.

  “It’s my real name.”

  I lift my hands in mock surrender. “I didn’t say it wasn’t.” Not out loud. I had thought it.

  “You didn’t have to say it.” Mr. Sheridan, Smoke, brushes his thumbs over my cheeks, leaving a trail of sweet sensation on my skin. “I’ve been answering that question for thirty-three years, since the day I was born.”

  “You must have been a gifted baby.” I grin. “Speaking from birth.”

  His throaty chuckle makes me happy for some reason.

  “Do those lines actually work on women?” No one can be that dumb.

  “On certain women, yeah.” Smoke nods. “But then, any line would work on that type.”

  “What type?” I lean into him, relishing his warmth.

  “Women, girls really, wanting nothing more than a good fuck, no strings attached.” He unsticks a curl from my forehead. “No one expects a man using those lines to stay around. I can hit it and quit it and no one gets hurt.”

  “Hmmm…” That makes sense. I guess. I examine him. “Is that why you’re dressed like a 1970’s Las Vegas, lounge singer tonight? You’re looking for a casual fling?”

  His lips quirk upward. “I dress like this every night, but yeah, that’s one of the reasons.” Smoke pushes my hair behind my ears, his touch gentle. “So what do you say, baby? You want to rock my world?”

  “That’s tempting but I’ll pass. There will be no rebound sex.” I meet his gaze. “I don’t want to do anything now that I’ll feel guilty about tomorrow.”

  “There’s no tomorrow, only here and now.”

  I roll my eyes. “That’s no way to live.”

  “It works for me.” Smoke shrugs. “But hey, I understand why you’re saying no.”

  “Good.”

  “You’re holding on to what you had with Eddy.” He plays with my hair. “Trying to make another impossible relationship work.”

  “This isn’t like those other relationships.” I bat his hands away from me, unable to think with him touching me. “Yes, at the moment we’re having problems, but every relationship has problems. We’ll work past this.” My mom never gave up on my dad when he lost his job. I won’t give up on Edward now.

  “He has a new girlfriend, baby. That’s more than a problem.”

  “It isn’t insurmountable. Chelsea is giving him something he thinks I can’t. But he’s wrong. I can give him all the same things.” I’ll make changes in my appearance, buy new clothes, be spontaneous and fun. “When I prove that to him, he’ll return to me.”

  “And you’d take him back?” Smoke skims his knuckles along my arms.

  “Of course I’ll take him back. Why wouldn’t I?”

  “The man had lipstick on his pants.”

  Shit. I had hoped I imagined that. “We weren’t virgins when we met.”

  “You both had pasts.” Smoke’s fingers return to my hair. “You were on equal footing then. This isn’t the same situation.”

  He’s right. I chew on my bottom lip. It isn’t.

  “But it could be the same situation.” He cups my chin, lifting my gaze to his. “If you had a whirlwind one-night affair, say with an appreciative club owner, you’d be even.”

  The man won’t give up. “I’m not having sex with you.”

  Smoke drifts his fingers over my breasts and my traitorous body reacts, wanting, needing more, uncaring that my heart and mind is committed to another man. “I’m merely trying to help you through this challenging situation.”

  “You’re not. You’re trying to get laid.” I slap his hands. “And stop touching me.”

  “I’m fixing your top.” His gaze lowers and his eyes glow. “Your nipples are showing. They’re pert and suckable and begging for my mouth.”

  “Sure, they are.” I glance downward and groan. He’s right. I jerk the babydoll back into place. My nipples are showing. “You didn’t see that.”

  I don’t want to contemplate who else might have seen my breasts tonight.

  “Baby, magnificent tits like yours can’t be unseen.” Smoke leers at me.

  I shouldn’t find his ogling as exciting as I do. “You’re such a pig.” I grab my coat and wrap my breasts in an extra layer of fabric, pulling the belt tight. “It’s a wonder you manage to seduce anyone.”

  “I do all right.” His cockiness borders on adorable.

  If I wasn’t in love with Edward, I might allow this man to seduce me, just to see what the fuss is about. I’ve never had a one-night stand. I’ve moved from serious relationship to serious relationship, trying to build that family I want, I need.

  But I won’t allow the club owner to seduce me.

  I’m in love with Edward and I’ll remain faithful to him.

  Even if he isn’t faithful to me.

  Smoke extracts two business cards from his suit jacket—one black and one gray. Silence stretches and his forehead furrows as he ponders them.

  “Call me when you want that meaningless bout of rebound sex.” He slips the gray business card into one of my coat pockets. “Casual is where I excel.”

  “Is this what you do—prey on heartbroken women?” Why does that make me sad for him? He’s a near stranger. I shouldn’t care about the man. At all.

  “If I don’t approach them, someone else will.” Smoke is unapologetic. “I’d never hurt you, Jenella.” He brushes his fingers over my face, a light, almost wistful caress. “I’d cherish you, adore you, treat you the way you should be treated.”

  “For a night.”

  “For a night.” He nods. “That’s all I give any woman.”

  “That’s a shame because you have much more to share.” Although I met him today, I know this in my heart. I see it in his eyes.

  I walk toward the doors.

  The club owner stays where he is, his gaze tracking my movements, his expression unreadable.

  “I’m the woman Edward needs.” I’ll make certain of that, changing as much as he requires me to change. “He’ll realize that and return to me. We’ll rediscover our love for each other, marry, have babies, grow old together.”

  “I hope you’re rig
ht, baby.” Smoke’s response is barely audible. “You’re a once-in-a-lifetime chick. You deserve every happiness this fucked-up world can give you.”

  Chapter Four

  I return to the apartment building. Woofer is stationed as usual, by the door. He chatters enthusiastically about every sports car he’s spotted since I left. I hide my heartache and confusion while I listen to him.

  Woofer has enough problems of his own. He doesn’t need to hear about mine.

  His flow of words eventually eases. I manage to hug the boy before he wiggles away from me. That physical contact, brief and hard-fought for, comforts me.

  I tell Woofer once again to go to a shelter, an instruction I suspect he’ll ignore, and take the elevator to my floor, let myself into the apartment I share with Azure.

  She isn’t home. Thank God. Azure is my best friend, the sister of my heart, family. I can never hide anything from her. She’d take one look at my face and ask me a zillion questions I’m not ready to answer.

  I prepare for bed, pick up my phone to call Edward as I do every night.

  Then I remember. He isn’t mine anymore.

  I set the phone down, swallowing my sob, trying desperately to remain positive, optimistic, hopeful. Every relationship faces challenges. I witnessed that firsthand when I was seven.

  This is merely one of ours. I’ll show Edward I can be the woman he needs and we’ll put this painful time behind us.

  Maybe, someday, in the far, far future, we’ll look back at tonight and laugh.

  Maybe.

  I pull the duvet up to my chin, wrap myself in softness, close my eyes and drift off, sleeping the dreamless sleep of the emotionally exhausted.

  ***

  When I wake, I reach for the phone, planning to call Edward as I always do. I stop myself in time. He doesn’t want to hear from me.

  He has a new girlfriend now.

  I stagger through my morning ritual, showering, fixing my hair, applying my makeup, checking my phone every couple of minutes.

  Edward doesn’t call or text or contact me in any way.

  I choose shoes with the highest, thinnest heels, footwear his mother would never wear, don a dove-gray suit with a youthful pleat in the skirt, and head to the office early.